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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23228245">look like the innocent flower</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnittingJedi/pseuds/TheKnittingJedi'>TheKnittingJedi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, M/M, Monsterfucking, One Shot, PWP, Sex with Snake Form Crowley (Good Omens), Smut, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens), it ain't much but it's honest porn, or something very close to it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:07:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23228245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnittingJedi/pseuds/TheKnittingJedi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>...but be the serpent under it.</p>
<p>(Or: sex helps you turn back into your human form after you've been stuck as a snake for too long.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Snake Pit</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>look like the innocent flower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekwill/gifts">seekwill</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This came into my mind fully formed at 4 AM two nights ago and should be treated as such.</p>
<p>Seekwill, my friend, I will leave this mud cake at your door, ring the bell and run away.</p>
<p>Thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock">summerofspock</a>, A+ smut beta, for making this a bit less of a mess.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Oh, you poor thing,” said Aziraphale when he found him curled up in a corner of the bookshop. “Here you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The angel’s voice pierced the fog of Crowley’s stuporous state like a lance through a dragon’s throat, a fresh hand on a feverish brow. And Crowley felt like that. Pierced. Feverish. He was probably imagining things, like the worried edge in Aziraphale’s voice. Could his reptile brain even do things like </span>
  <em>
    <span>imagining</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve looked everywhere for you.” A soft murmur in the darkness, the kind of voice you used at bedsides, in sick-rooms. All for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’M here,” Crowley replied, slowly. “'s alwaysssss.” He unfurled a bit, scales sliding on scales with a watery whisper, trying to emerge from the viscous thickness of his slumber. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His forked tongue darted through the air, a reminder of something, something. What? He did it again, tasting the smells around him. The acidulous note of decaying cellulose. Wine dredges in a forgotten glass, somewhere in the back room. Earthy woods and leathers. And, stronger than everything else, the bouquet of skin and pulse and heat and moist and breath that indicated a mammal’s body, only with a little bit of steel under it, a sheathed blade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My dear, may I touch you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley raised his head towards the voice. Why was he asking? He swayed blindly until a hand found the top of his head, finally, finally. Crowley headbutted the angel’s palm, pressing there, and clever fingers stroked his scales without hesitation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long have you been here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley would have liked to know. He hissed, shifting his coils until he could rest his head on the angel's knee, stretching his long, lithe body in a silent invitation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a chuckle, the angel complied obligingly, stroking down his length. “Why didn't you call?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was that? Oh, yes. “Didn't want you to see me like thissss.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So why did you come to the bookshop?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Words were so hard. Crowley flicked his tongue. Now that he was closer, the angel’s taste was stronger. “Thought I could change back before you found me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” More a whisper than a vowel. So many things packed in it. A single syllable was like a suitcase, so full of meaning it would burst. Crowley couldn’t unpack it if he tried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The soft, warm hand retreated. “My dear, may I pick you up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coursssssse.” Even forewarned, Crowley let out a surprised hiss as his heavy coils were gathered up — </span>
  <em>
    <span>lift with the legs, angel, not the back, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wanted to say, but he didn’t remember exactly what those words meant — and held in strong arms, draped on large shoulders. Crowley felt himself being carried away, a heavy armful of snake, and suddenly he remembered the angel like he’d seen him so many times, carrying crates of books from one corner of the shop to another with casual ease.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held onto that memory, clasped it, protected it. He didn’t know why it was important, but it was, it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he was put down, deft fingers untangling his black coils like a skein of bulky yarn ready to be wound up into a ball. Crowley shifted, helping those hands, settling in a comfortable position. He considered going back to sleep. The surface he was on had definitely improved, from dark corner on cold floor to soft, warm angel lap. But, while one hand held him in place to one side and kept him from spilling over, the other kept stroking him, drawing Moebius strips on his winding body, tracing the scales between his still-closed eyes with a fingertip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven't answered my question, dear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quesssstion?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why did you come here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feelssss sssssafe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hand stopped moving. “Crowley.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Only he didn’t say it out loud. If he kept still, he would become invisible. That was how it worked. Maybe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Crowley, would you look at me, please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, no. “No,” he said, morosely. He glanced around. His eyesight was shit, but at least he wasn’t in the dark anymore. He moved his head and was rewarded with a gentle pressure, and he pressed into it in turn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand settled underneath his jaw and pulled him gently up, until their eyes were level. “Safe from what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley couldn’t resist it. He darted his tongue out, tickling, and was rewarded with a nose scrunch and a scolding glare. Snakes couldn’t feel glee. Could they? “Not from,” he said then, pointing his unblinking eyes into the angel’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale waited, patient and composed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Safe to.” The distant part of Crowley’s brain that remembered how it felt to have limbs was aching to cross them, lean against something, lie in a gloomy tangle somewhere. “To turn back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head swinging, Crowley struggled to find the words that had suddenly gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this was Aziraphale. He didn’t have to ask. They’d known each other for so long, words were just decoration. “How can I help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jusssssssst.” Crowley tightened in a never ending spiral, settling his head down on Aziraphale’s chest. “Hold me, angel. ’M cold.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>When he came to, he took a deep, panicked breath into his two squishy human lungs, safe behind twelve pairs of arched ribs. He tried to kick his legs, to shake the paralysis off, but he was swaddled into something thick and soft. It… wasn’t bad. He felt… he </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt </span>
  </em>
  <span>again, that was the thing. He was warm, but consciousness brought with it shivers nonetheless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were heartbeats. Plural? Chemicals started rushing into his corporation, causing his next breath to be a sob.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ssssh,” said someone in a soothing whisper, holding him tight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley realised he was pressed onto a chest, probably belonging to the same creature who had wrapped him in a blanket and had their arms around him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that also explained the second heartbeat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Slowly does it, now. You’re safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew that voice. Crowley opened his eyes and started taking stock of himself and his surroundings. After a few failed attempts, he freed his hands from the blanket and fisted them into the fabric of a familiar shirt and waistcoat. He tried to speak, but he just managed to spill every vowel he came equipped with in one breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Aziraphale chuckled, Crowley felt his breath moving the hair on the top of his head. He had vague memories of being picked up and falling asleep in the angel’s lap, only it didn’t make sense, because why would Aziraphale let him sleep on him, like he was a pet or a…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no.” Memories came rushing in, flooding a brain that was only nominally capable of making sense of them. “Did I…? Am I…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” Aziraphale’s voice was solid and unmoving as an anchor, and if Crowley relaxed and nestled a bit deeper under the angel’s chin, it was nobody’s business but their own. And if Aziraphale held him tighter and murmured reassurances in his ear when Crowley started shaking in earnest, nobody was there to judge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stayed like this for so long that, when he calmed down, Crowley noticed the light in the room had changed. “’S late,” he said, making no sign of moving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not going anywhere until we’ve talked,” said the angel, reading his mind, stroking his arm with his knuckles. He delivered it in a soft voice, but only a fool would have dismissed the steel in his voice, and Crowley may have been an idiot, and desperately in love at that, but he wasn’t a fool.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He snuggled closer, just because he could, and because there was still a kernel of ice inside him, inside his limbs, that wouldn’t go away. “When did I turn back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You started while you were asleep. It’s a process, apparently.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley frowned. “How long did I sleep?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale shifted imperceptibly under him, clearing his throat. “A while. Enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Angel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale sighed. “Three days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the air left Crowley’s lungs gradually, as if he’d been punched in slow motion. “We’ve been like this for three days?” He pulled back, looking at Aziraphale as he started moving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If the angel’s arms holding him into place hadn’t been enough to dissuade him, the look in Aziraphale’s eyes would have sufficed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because he was looking at him with everything in his eyes. Knowing. Understanding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley could bear it for two more, eternal seconds, then he looked down, frowning. “A process?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One arm shifted so that Aziraphale could reach between them and take his hand. Feeling his skin under his new, sensitive fingertips almost made Crowley scream. “Look,” Aziraphale said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The back of Crowley’s hand was dirty. Only it wasn’t dirt. Aziraphale brushed his thumb over it, and the friction drove the point home. Scales.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley’s insides twitched and a sick feeling welled up in his stomach. He wanted to yank his hand away, hide it, hide his whole self, but Aziraphale kept holding it. When Crowley looked at him, pleading, steel blue eyes pinned him in place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another meaningless sound crawled out from his throat, leaving his lips, and Crowley winced at the neediness in that sound. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Didn’t want to see me like this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he had said, back then. He remembered now. Some things didn’t change.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley ached to scratch the scales away, exposing the flesh underneath, didn’t care how much it would hurt. It would still have been better than this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but look, horrified, as Aziraphale brought his wretched hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, right on that monstrous patch of skin that wasn’t skin. He never stopped looking in his eyes. Then he pressed Crowley’s palm on his own chest, right above his heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbstruck, Crowley didn’t move a muscle when the angel’s other hand brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead and then traced the profile of his cheekbone, his jaw. Crowley could feel the hitch of scales there, too, and he shivered again. Aziraphale was following his fingers’ journey with his eyes, looking at him as if he was something precious and worthwhile and </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley opened his mouth, but this time no sound came out of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The angel cupped his jaw. “You’re so beautiful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaning into his touch against his better judgement, Crowley swallowed. “’M not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, then, if you insist.” Aziraphale smiled and leaned in, bringing their foreheads together. “You’re still mine. Breathe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley obeyed, matching the rhythm of his breath to Aziraphale’s, slow and deep. “I’m afraid,” he said after a while, and he was pleased to notice that his voice was steadier, now. “I’m afraid, if I change again. That next time I won’t come back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A warm hand covered the back of his head, pressing them closer together, with all the weight of a promise. “You will. I’ll make sure of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley believed him. “Would you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything, my dear. You only have to ask.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to…” Crowley shook his head. He had no right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale cupped his face between his hands. “Ask me. I will say yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He would.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I’m still cold.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, my darling. Wait.” Aziraphale lifted a hand and snapped his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The exhaustion that gripped his limbs and his mind didn’t prevent him from gasping at the sudden shock of skin against warm skin, as the blanket now was wrapped around the two of them, and Aziraphale’s clothes had vanished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was definitely getting warmer, now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale replied to his flabbergasted stare with a level-headed nod. “It’s the best way to share body heat. You’re feeling better already, I can tell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m feeling…a lot of things,” Crowley admitted, and by the way they were pressed together there wasn’t much room for equivocating what sort of </span>
  <em>
    <span>things</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was talking about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of pushing him out of his lap, horrified, Aziraphale chuckled and tilted his head towards him, bringing their lips closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While his instincts screamed back at him to lean in, Crowley put a hand on the angel’s chest and pulled away. “You couldn’t… you cannot want me…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The look that Aziraphale gave him was genuinely confused. Of course he had already seen every inch of his body, in every way it could be seen. But not this… half-monster, half-man thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>scales</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Crowley gestured helplessly, his hands still half tangled in the blanket, which was now definitely bigger than when it all started out. “And the… other things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He realised it was the wrong thing to say when Aziraphale widened his eyes, a little bit of sanity visibly leaving his mind. “What other things?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their limbs shifted under the blanket in a messy tangle, until Aziraphale took both Crowley’s wrists in his hands. “My darling, let me make something absolutely clear: there is no way you could scare me away from you. No possible way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Repulsed, then,” Crowley offered, because his sense of self preservation was apparently faulty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tilting his head with a reproachful glare, Aziraphale shushed him by pressing their lips together. A heartbeat. Two, three, five, then Crowley’s heart rate spiked up and he lost count.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew he had no business taking advantage of this, not in the state he was in, but he did nonetheless. He was a monster, after all. That was what monsters did. He pressed his tongue against the angel’s lips, and Aziraphale parted them with a moan, welcoming him in his warm mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Darling, your tongue,” Aziraphale said when they separated, gasping for breath they didn’t need. He sounded delighted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, Heaven. “I know,” Crowley said, and he kissed his angel again, straddling him. He was desperate and his angel was so soft and he was waiting for the Aziraphale told him he’d had enough, and maybe his forked, too long tongue he was pushing into his mouth would suffice, maybe he’d never discovered the other things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Crowley was a selfish little creature, taking everything he could, and he didn’t stop Aziraphale’s hands when they roamed on his torso, finding more scaly patches and breaking the kiss to press his open mouth on them, on his collarbones, his sternum.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley shivered. The kernel of ice inside him was smaller than before, but it was still there. He had been so cold. He didn’t want to feel cold ever again. “Lick me,” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment later, a warm tongue was pressing on Crowley’s neck, sliding down, tracing a careful, wet path on the scales towards Crowley’s collarbone. Crowley lifted himself on his knees, leaning forward, offering more and more of himself, getting closer to the point of no return.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ignored the ache between his legs until it couldn’t be ignored anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was so hard that he had to suppress a scream when Aziraphale’s fingers found him and wrapped his fingers around him. Crowley had realised that another piece of his anatomy was still in the process of reverting back from his serpentine form, and that was the moment in which Aziraphale realised it, too. That was the moment before the rejection. He held fast. He had to get ready for it, even if he would never be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped, awestruck. “How lovely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley embraced Aziraphale’s head with both arms, mussing his hair as he forced him to stop looking at him and start looking at </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He kissed him so thoroughly that time could as well have stopped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he felt grounded enough, Crowley rolled his hip forwards, in a daring and tentative motion. Aziraphale’s enthusiastic response melted away the rest of the ice inside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he stilled, pulling back, looking at Crowley — who still had his fingers in his hair — and the tip of his tongue wetted his own lovebitten lips. “Can I have a taste?” the angel asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley’s heart missed a beat, then started drumming furiously against his ribcage. The angel was looking at him like he was good enough to eat — </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally —</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he couldn’t stop himself from nodding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold onto the blanket.” While Crowley obeyed, Aziraphale let his finger skim blindly on Crowley’s arms and then settle on his hips. He lifted Crowley as if he weren’t heavier than a paperweight, making him lay down on the sofa and lying on top of him. He kissed his lips, his collarbones, disappearing down where their shared body heat under the blanket must have made the air suffocating. Crowley held onto his shoulders, wondering how he would survive this, when the angel’s fingers wrapped around his base, and his tongue traced a path from there to the place where the two hemipenes forked, and all his mental processes shut down at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley opened his mouth, but no sound came out of it. He arched his back, hands fluttering over Aziraphale’s shoulders, on his neck, into his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The angel proceeded sucking one tip, then the other, laving them with his tongue thoroughly When he took both of them in his mouth, Crowley imagined his gorgeous lips stretched, his perfect head bobbing as he took him in his mouth in this form. Aziraphale’s tongue teased that sensitive spot between them again, and suddenly finding his voice became a matter of extreme urgency.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to…” was all it spilled out of him, but the angel understood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or he thought he did. Instead of pulling back, though, he took him in deeper, trapping him between his tongue and his palate in the most delicious way. Crowley could feel both of his tips pressing at the back of the angel’s throat, leaking and throbbing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needed words, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Angel, please, stop. I want…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley swallowed audibly when Aziraphale pulled away with an obscene sucking noise and crawled up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right, words. He was on the right path. “I need you inside me,” he said, when he finally met his eyes — and wasn’t it the most wonderful thing, his angel, lips red from sucking, rosy patches on his cherub cheeks, his lush, feathery hair all mussed, making him look completely dishevelled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley was trembling slightly, but it wasn’t from the cold. The enthusiasm with which Aziraphale was complying to his request only made his anticipation grow. “Don’t have time,” he said, when the angel was about to prepare him the human way, as they both preferred to do in normal circumstances. “Need you now. Miracle me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A snap of angelic fingers and he felt himself slick and open, and the more relaxed he had ever been since turning back into his preferred shape, at least for the most part. “Yessss,” he hissed when Aziraphale breached him, but it wasn’t a slip: his tongue was back to the way it was supposed to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale panted in his ear as he pushed inside him in one single motion. “You feel so good,” he breathed, drawing out the moment. “You are so gorgeous, so good…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think that’s you,” Crowley rebuked, tilting his hips and bending his legs back under the blanket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale buried his head in Crowley’s neck as he started to move, balancing on one arm beside Crowley’s head while he came down to stroke him with the other, hand miraculously slicked . When his thumb found the sensitive spot again, it took only a second before Crowley came with a long shudder, whimpering his name breathlessly, legs twitching, toes curling, hands holding onto the angel’s back for dear life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come inside me,” he begged, “please, please, I love you, fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s breath was hot on his neck as he spilled, still holding him in his fist, milking out his orgasm right up to the end as he finished inside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he took in everything, from the sheen of sweat that made their skin slick where they touched to the final stutter of Aziraphale’s hips, Crowley realised that he was himself again. Pulling his hands out of Aziraphale’s hair, he touched his own neck. While sensitive from the previous attention, it was just skin. He knew that, if he were to ask the angel to roll over, he would have seen that everything else had returned to normal, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale moved his head to press a kiss on his temple, with a tired moan. “I had a theory,” he said, in lieu of the sappy declaration of love and devotion that Crowley was happy to sacrifice to whatever it was the angel was onto.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, expound on it,” he replied, imitating his stuffy tone and earning a pinch in the side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You started turning back when you felt safe and loved.” Aziraphale stroked the sweaty hair on Crowley’s temple. “Which are very human emotions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you brought them up to eleven,” Crowley finished, impressed. “What a neat little experiment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I also wanted to know what you taste like, when you are like that,” Aziraphale admitted, straight-faced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley snorted, flustered and disgustingly happy. “Sorry to have rained on your parade.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, not at all.” A moment passed. “Are you sure you don’t…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re going to ask me if I can change </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>on purpose, I’m going to toss you on the floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale murmured something that sounded like </span>
  <em>
    <span>I would like to see you try</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but didn’t insist.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Come yell at me on <a href="https://mllekurtz.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>. You can tell me how many AO3 tabs you have open in your browser and stuff. I won't judge.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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